Pet Therapy
by Docile Boy
Summary: When Brenda injures herself, who does she allow to come to her aid?
1. Chapter 1

Sharon didn't mean to listen in to the Lieutenants' conversation, it just happened that she was in search of a fresh pot of coffee at the same time that Flynn and Provenza were taking a break.

"I checked on her last night," Flynn was saying to Provenza. "And she's a complete mess - someone is supposed to be staying with her because of the bump to the head, but she wouldn't let me stay on the couch or even check on her this morning!"

Provenza sighed and took a sip from his coffee. "You know how she is about accepting help at the best of times," Provenza mused. "Right now she's feeling vulnerable to begin with…" He sighed and sipped again.

Sharon did know how Brenda was about accepting help. At the courthouse two days before, Brenda Leigh had fallen and wrenched her knee as well as whacking her head. Sharon had been in contact with her since - through text messages - but she guessed Brenda was putting on a good front. She certainly hadn't mentioned that her head bump required some supervision.

Brenda was used to accepting Sharon's help - maybe she'd be able to get past that initial barrier and be allowed to provide some care. If she didn't have any help, Brenda certainly wasn't keeping that knee immobile, and Sharon knew that could have long term implications for her ability to do her job.

Sharon dumped a creamer in to her mug, and added a measure of sugar, stirring contemplatively. She knew why she wanted to help Brenda Leigh - it perhaps wasn't the healthiest thing ever, but Sharon was comfortable with her feelings for Brenda; after so many years, it was almost like an extra appendage, just another arm. She wouldn't say she was in love, because in Sharon's mind, love was a reciprocal emotion, but she did adore her, despite (or maybe because of) her numerous quirks. The emotional barriers and trust issues were two quirks that Sharon was confident she could overcome.

She gave Flynn and Provenza a friendly nod as she left; Sharon wasn't going to let them in on her plan to try to help out their Chief - that whole trust thing demanded it. She didn't know if Brenda's squad was aware that she was friendly with their boss, and she didn't care.

Sharon managed to get herself out of work a little early. Since the departure of he who must not be named, Brenda had inhabited the duplex by herself; a lot of space for one tiny little woman who didn't have much inclination towards housework, or to use her rather large kitchen and dining room. Sharon had visited a few times during the lawsuit, but they weren't really 'come over to mine for a meal' sort of friend, so she hadn't been around since Fritz had moved out.

She parked her unmarked next to Brenda's. The yard and landscaping looked a little sad - somehow Sharon didn't see Brenda being much for yard work. She rang the bell.

"Its open," a small voice called from inside. Sharon's eyebrows shot up in alarm.

Opening the heavy door, Sharon said: "Aren't you lucky I'm not a felon?"

Brenda's head popped up over the back of the sofa; Sharon nearly gasped at the pair of bruised eyes she sported. Apparently the hit on the head was rather serious. Sharon wondered if the bossy little blonde had pressured her doctor to discharge her from the hospital when perhaps she should still be there.

"I do have a sidearm within easy reach, Cap'n," Brenda grumped with a scowl for her guest, then flopped back down out of sight.

Sharon let herself in and joined Brenda on the other side of the couch. It seemed that she had tried to put everything she might need over the course of a day within arms reach. There was even a foam cooler next to the coffee table.

Brenda looked absolutely miserable; the black eyes, her knee was ballooned large enough that Sharon didn't think the immobilizer that was slung across the back of the couch would even fit, her usually bouncy curls looked lank and dirty, and the brown eyes that usually snapped with vigor were dull and tired.

"You look wrecked," Sharon began bluntly. "Did you manage to sleep last night?"

Brenda scowled at her again, but answered. "I was scared to, and I can't get comfortable."

Brenda must be feeling wretched to actually admit something that telling straight off with no prodding.

"Will you let me help you?" Sharon asked softly, perching on the arm of the sofa at Brenda's feet.

Brenda nodded morosely, and to Sharon, her quick acceptance was practically as good as an engraved invitation.

Sharon began by gathering up the empty glasses that had begun to congregate on the coffee table. Suspiciously, there were very few dishes, other than a few empty cereal bowls.

"Have you eaten anything other than Lucky Charms and Count Chocula?"

Brenda shook her head minutely and desultorily changed the channel on the television. Sharon rolled her eyes and carried the armload of glass and ceramic in to the kitchen. The dishwasher was empty, so it was the work of moments to load it with the dirty dishes. Unfortunately, opening the refrigerator, it was also empty, aside from a carton of milk and a few take-away containers of dubious age.

"I can't even fix you a meal, Brenda Leigh," Sharon called. More than Brenda's injury, Sharon was worried about her general apathy - she knew Brenda would never be super excited about her home life, as it just wasn't in her nature, but right now, she was neglecting herself in an extreme manner.

Decided, Sharon poked her head back in to the living room. "I'm packing you a bag. You can stay with me at least until you're out of the immobilizer."

Brenda narrowed her eyes, trying to formulate an objection. Sharon could see the wheels turning in her head.

"Don't even, Chief. You can barely stand, you have a head injury, and I'm offering to cook meals and clean for you."

"Well, if you're going to clean up after me, Cap'n," Brenda joked, managing a small smile for Sharon.

Sharon packed that bag for Brenda, feeling a little odd pawing through her underwear drawer in search of things that could be worn with the immobilizer. Getting Brenda in the immobilizer and in the back of her unmarked was another challenge, but with crutches and judicious use of Sharon's shoulders, they managed.

Situating Brenda across the back seat of the car, Sharon propped her knee on a few extra pillows she'd purloined, just to be sure she had enough to keep Brenda comfortable. Their ride was quiet; Sharon thought that maybe the other woman was dozing.

As Sharon pulled in to her driveway and parked, her heart swelled with those not-quite-appropriate feelings for the almost urchin-like figure in her rearview mirror. She hoped that a little friendly care would show Brenda that she wasn't alone as she thought she was. She hoped that giving her friend a little friendly care wouldn't break her heart.

She gently woke Brenda, who was indeed asleep, the bruised eyes making her look even more exhausted than she must be. Brenda leaned heavily on her, using one crutch to get up Sharon's walkway.

"Let's get you settled on the couch and then I'll get some dinner started," Sharon said soothingly to the slightly dazed woman. Brenda mumbled an agreement, holding herself up while Sharon got the front door open. There was a welcome party assembled for them in the entryway.

"Oh, you have kitties," Brenda exclaimed, gazing down at the curious felines with a sort of rapture. Then she looked up at Sharon. "You never said you had kitties," said Brenda accusingly.

"Divulging my secret weapon?" Sharon joked, and Ollie, the big brown tabby, blinked slowly up at her in agreement; he was indeed a weaponized embodiment of cuteness.

"So you would have used them to lure me over here?" Brenda groused as Sharon guided her in to the house.

"Oh, definitely," Sharon assured her, ushering Brenda on to the massive sectional that dominated the living room. The cats followed, popping on to the back of the couch to watch Brenda get settled, waiting for her chance to introduce themselves.

Sharon sat and toed off her heels while Brenda looked around with undisguised interest. Besides the couch, there was a flat panel TV mounted on the wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered two walls, and a giant vertical tree that looked like a piece of wooden sculpture. The cats, confident that they were no longer going to be sat on, flowed down over the sofa for some attention. Ollie, more overtly interested in visitors, positioned himself next to Brenda, sniffing delicately at the brace on her knee before positioning himself next to a hand in prime position for some pettings.

"That's Ollie," Sharon introduced. "And this is Cassie." Sharon stroked down the silver tabby's spine; Cassie arched her back, purring, stepping lightly in to Sharon's lap.

Ollie and Cassie were siblings; big, beautiful Maine Coon cats that Sharon had rescued three years ago. The two cats had been living in a too small apartment, and while Sharon hadn't had experience with Maine Coons, she had plenty of space, and the willingness to put time and energy in to cat enrichment, which this pair definitely required.

"These are the biggest kitties I've ever met," Brenda cooed, charmed by Ollie's combination of friendly inquisitiveness and typical feline regality. He meowed and head butted the hand that had stilled its petting motions.

"They are big," agreed Sharon, lifting Cassie from her lap, where she seemed like she was going to settle in. "And they are excellent company - I guarantee that by the time you're mobile again, you'll be absolutely sick of them."

The smitten look that Brenda was giving Ollie, and his rumbling purr told Sharon that maybe she was wrong and that a little pet therapy was exactly was the Chief needed.

"I'm going to get some dinner started," Sharon said softly, leaving Brenda on the couch, looking much more comfortable than she had on her own couch. Brenda smiled at her gratefully, almost relievedly, then snuggled down in to the sofa, sinking her fingers in to Ollie's thick coat and closing her eyes.

Sharon had to wake Brenda up again for dinner. Ollie was curled up next to her side, squished cozily against the back of the couch, which the big cat enjoyed. Cassie had taken up station keeping on the back of the couch, keeping an eye on their guest, and on her brother.

Brenda was happy to sit up and eat the bowl of homemade beef stew over rice that Sharon handed her. She even politely asked Sharon if she could share a bit of bread crust with the kitties, who were totally not begging as the women ate off TV trays.

After they ate, it was too early even for exhausted Brenda to crutch off to bed, so Sharon demonstrated, much to Brenda's delight, some of the kitty enrichment she used to keep the cats from destroying the house.

Flipping around a feathered cat toy for the enjoyment of Ollie, Cassie and Brenda Leigh was easy; less easy was the prospect of safely getting Brenda in and out of a shower. She knew it would make Brenda feel better, but only if they could manage it with it stressing her knee.

When Ollie lay panting on the floor after dozens of acrobatic leaps, and Cassie sat on a limb of the cat tree, watching him, flipping her tail as if laughing at the over exuberance of her brother, Sharon broached the issue, tentatively.

"Would you like a shower?" She offered. "The shower in the master bath has a nice bench and an extendable shower head."

Brenda wrinkled her nose. "Am I stinkin' that bad." She gave herself a cursory sniff, and the sight of Brenda checking if she smelled under her arms gave Sharon a thrill, thinking of things that could make both of them a little smelly. At the same time.

Pulling her head out of fantasy land wasn't easy. "Brenda," chided Sharon. "Would it feel better going to sleep clean?"

Brenda nodded, not making eye contact, maybe still ashamed that she needed help, or just disgruntled in general.

"Let me get things set up, and I'll be right back."

Sharon hustled away to set up towels, and dig out a spare robe. She also sat a kitchen chair next to the shower door so Brenda could dry off and dress without having to worry about leaving the bathroom or perching on the toilet.

Brenda took quite a while in the shower. Sharon took advantage of Brenda's enjoyment of the plentiful hot water and fed the cats and started a load of laundry while keeping an ear out for any trouble. She was glad she did, because about 30 seconds after the water shut off, there was a squeal that echoed alarmingly off the marble tiles of the bathroom.

Sharon darted to the en suite door and knocked gently. "Brenda, is everything ok?"

"Um…" Brenda sounded unsure, which was reason enough for Sharon to worry.

"May I come in?"

"Yes," Brenda answered, sounding small.

Though she wanted to preserve Brenda's dignity (and her sanity) as much as she could, it was impossible to avoid looking at Brenda when attempting to help her recover from what appeared to be a tumble backwards over the threshold of the shower. She'd pulled a towel over herself, though was nevertheless more exposed than Sharon had ever seen, but now was not the time for Sharon to indulge herself, not when Brenda was hurt and shivering and altogether too thin. She had the urge to feed the other woman a second supper.

"I misjudged the distance between the shower and the chair," Brenda explained as Sharon knelt next to her.

"You didn't hurt your knee again, did you?" Sharon narrowed her eyes in preparation for sussing out any falsehoods the Chief might tell.

"No. Just my toosh, a little, and my pride," answered Brenda, flushing a little, turning more pink than warm water and humid air could account for.

"Ok." Sharon believed her; Brenda had been remarkably forthright with her today, plus she had gotten quite adept at reading the lies on Brenda's face. "Let me help you into the chair, and then you can call me when you're finished in here."

Brenda used Sharon's shoulder to lever herself into the waiting chair, saving Sharon the torturous delight of lifting her more bodily off the floor. As it was, she could not resist giving a reassuring squeeze to one of Brenda's bare shoulders before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Sharon changed quickly in to her pajamas, tiny shorts and a tank top in deference to her propensity to sleeping with the windows open during the spring and summer. It also happened to be similar to what Brenda had to put on, though Sharon had paired the blonde's tiny little running shorts with a slimly cut long-sleeved t-shirt and camisole. The prospect of dressing Brenda for the next week or so was exciting, even if the wardrobe she'd pulled from the other woman's drawers was limited to boxers, running shorts and casual tops. They would cross the road of real clothes when Brenda's knee wasn't the size of a basketball.

As Brenda had her first physical therapy appointment that afternoon, Sharon wrapped up her day just after lunch, checking in with her subordinates and handing out new assignments. Before leaving, she clipped down to Major Crimes. Brenda had been communicating with her squad all day on Sharon's borrowed laptop from her command center on the guest bed, but they had no idea where she was, and would probably become territorial when Sharon went to check Brenda's departmental inbox. If Brenda hadn't shared where she was staying, Sharon was going to do her best to keep the boys in the dark. Brenda was feeling fragile and raw and didn't want herself exposed to any eyes, that she had let Sharon in was immeasurably special, and Sharon was going to hold on to that with both hands.

The Murder Room appeared to be empty as Sharon entered, and she resisted the urge to tip-toe as she walked to Brenda's office door and swiped two envelopes out of the mailbox that hung there. She didn't even look at them, just tucked them under her arm and turned to make her escape before she was caught, but her luck didn't hold as Tao darted out of the media room, slamming on the brakes when he saw her. She plastered on a confident smile, gave him a jaunty little wave, and turned on the speed, getting out of the line of fire before the Lieutenant could get himself together to question her presence there.

Sharon exited her car with her arms full; Brenda's mail, soups and salads and a big cupcake for her guest. She was unreasonably excited about having Brenda Leigh in her home; Sharon knew she needed to temper feelings and create a little distance because what this meant for her, what this felt like, was not reality. Brenda would get better and go home and it would be back to her and the cats. But Brenda was so lost right now, beyond the hurt knee, she needed someone to be open with her and sweet to her and supportive of her in order to heal some of the emotional wounds that her divorce and the Goldman case had caused. That Sharon had the opportunity to provide these things in a personal setting - well, she had been thanking every deity she could think of for the past 18 hours.

There was no welcoming committee waiting for her in the foyer as she got herself through the front door. She slipped out of her shoes, and padded in to the kitchen to deposit the food. Standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom with Brenda's mail in her hands, Sharon's heart thudded pleasantly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes involuntarily. Brenda was nestled among a mountain of pillows, her knee propped up on a stack of two. Cassie was perched on the pillow above her shoulder, peering down at whatever Brenda was doing on the computer. All she could see of Ollie was his tail, as he had burrowed between Brenda's body and the pillows.

"Well, doesn't this look cozy," she purred happily, and was gifted with a huge smile from Brenda, and Ollie's head popping up from among the pillows. Brenda looked much more well-rested and comfortable than she had yesterday when Sharon discovered her on the couch in the duplex. And the kitties looked right at home; in fact, she was surprised how 'in-the-mix' the usually a little standoffish Cassie was.

"Hi!" Brenda greeted her gaily. "I hear you were burglarizin' my Murder Room!"

Sharon chuckled and took the liberty of crawling on to the bed, heedless of wrinkling her suit, reaching for Ollie's head and tickling him behind the ears.

"I got your mail and hightailed it out of there," Sharon confessed.

"Couldn't stand up to the firing line, eh?"

"I'm sure I could have talked my way out of the whatever your boys wanted to accuse me of, but I did want to bring you your lunch and get you to PT on time." She didn't want to talk to Brenda about her reluctance to tell the Major Crimes squad what was going on with Brenda, and her reasons for that reluctance. That was too heavy and too revealing for the business of cheering Brenda up a little, and for keeping Sharon's heart safe whilst Brenda was inhabiting her guest bedroom.

"Ooooo, lunch!" Brenda's focus changed immediately at the mention of food. "I ate most of the snacks you left me, but the kitties helped. A little."

"Oh, kitties." Sharon scratched down Ollie's spine, and he wriggled from his spot next to Brenda to step onto Sharon's lap, stretching up to touch his nose to hers. "They do like to beg."

"They're wonderful, Sharon," Brenda gushed, reaching up to bury her finger's in Cassie's chest, which the cat accepted with a rumbling purr. "They've kept me company all morning, and Ollie is such a talker."

Brenda's enthusiasm about the cats was charming and catching. Sharon was suddenly very thankful for their over-the-top personalities. Feeling comfortable, she stretched out on her side, allowing Ollie to stretch out too, and have his belly rubbed. Brenda smiled down at them, a kind of wonder in her eyes, and Sharon couldn't help but smile back.

They gave the kitties their due appreciation for a few minutes. Brenda set the computer aside so Cassie could step down into her lap and then over to Sharon for a hello.

"Let me change and then we'll get you set up for lunch," Sharon murmured, and Brenda grinned at her, apparently unable to stop smiling today.

"Can we eat together?"

"Of course. Probably not at the table though - we need to keep that knee elevated."

Sharon woke up with a cat in her face. Cassie meowed kitty breath in her face again, prodding her in the cheek with her nose. She groaned, eyes flicking to the clock on her nightstand. She'd gone to bed at 11:30 after a rather strenuous afternoon of helping Brenda to be a little more mobile, getting her in and out of the house and the therapist's office and deflecting her requests to stop by the office really quick to pick up some things. It was just after one, and she had no idea why Cassie, who had chosen to sleep with Brenda (as had her brother, those traitors, but Brenda certainly needed their services more than Sharon did), was waking her up in the middle of the night. She sat up, and Cassie meowed again, louder, and turned as if she was going to jump off the bed, pausing to look over her shoulder before she did, looking significantly at Sharon.

"Ok, ok, I get it," Sharon grumbled, swinging her legs around and sliding out of bed. Cassie landed on the floor with a thump and trotted off towards the guest room, tail in the air.

It was apparent why Cassie had woken her when the sound of Brenda crying trickled down the hallway. Sharon almost didn't knock, but pulled herself up in the doorway and rapped quietly on the jamb.

"Are you ok? Cassie came and woke me up."

Brenda managed a watery chuckle, and Ollie's head popped up, as he'd wedged himself down by Brenda again. He shot her a look that said clearly: 'Mom, please fix this, because apparently cuddles aren't doing the trick.'

"Fritz heard I'd hurt myself and he called to gloat," Brenda said in an unsteady voice, and Sharon dropped the pretense of distance, and climbed into the bed, wanting to pull the pillows away and gather Brenda into her arms, but her injury would make it difficult, and Sharon didn't know if it would be welcome - she didn't know if Brenda was the type who appreciated a hug when she was emotional, or if she would appreciate a hug from Sharon. She reached for her hand instead, which Brenda gripped tightly.

"He said he wasn't surprised that I had hurt myself, like I can't be trusted to walk now that I'm not married to his ass." She scraped at her eyes with the hand that wasn't in Sharon's. "He didn't even ask if I was alright or why I had fallen. I didn't want to tell him that you were helpin' me out because I knew he would disparage that and you and the kindness that you're doin' me."

"He can disparage all he likes, Brenda Leigh. It doesn't change anything."

"I know. I know. But you take a lot of shit already, and I don't want you to take anymore for doin' a nice thing for me."

"That's sweet of you." It was nice to hear that Brenda's protective instincts were aroused on Sharon's behalf. "Is there anything I can do so you can get a good night's sleep tonight?"

"Stay? I don't wanna be alone."

Sharon nodded, shy, and pulled back the duvet to slide in a little closer to Brenda, who settled back against her pillows again, tears no longer leaking from her big brown eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Brenda was panicking. She'd heard that morning from her orthopedist that she would need an ACL repair in the next few weeks in order to ever get back on to full duty, able to go out to bust down doors with her boys again. But after the procedure, it would probably be two or three weeks before she would be able to get around wholly on her own again and do things like grocery shop and clean her place.

She didn't want to be limited in the types of field work she could do. She wanted to be able to fully participate in man-hunts and critical missings and all of the other things that were part of her job as head of Major Crimes, so this surgery felt critical to her - she couldn't lose the job that she loved on top of everything else that had happened in the last year. The problem was that the only person she trusted to help her after the surgery - the only person she wanted to help her after the surgery - was Sharon, to whom she was already massively indebted for her many kindnesses since Brenda had hurt herself.

Spending a week with Sharon had been a revelation. Sharon was kind, Sharon could cook, Sharon was strong enough to keep Brenda upright when she was unsteady, Sharon had marvelous kitties, and Sharon asked no questions when Brenda needed to have a cry, simply offering her shoulder or a hug if it was desired.

Since Brenda's return to her own domicile, she had been invited to Sharon's for more than a few meals, even spending the night a few more times when a long day of work and physical therapy and a massive meal home cooked meal with wine had proved too much for her constitution. Other than that first night, Sharon hadn't shared a bed with Brenda again, but the feeling of camaraderie and empathy between them was strong, and continued to grow.

But as much as Brenda had come to rely on Sharon emotionally, she wasn't comfortable asking her to give up two weeks of her life to help Brenda get back on her feet after knee surgery. Accepting that she wanted Sharon to play such a large role in her life would come too close to acknowledging that her feelings for Sharon were changing.

She spent all day fretting, and it was effecting her concentration. The surgery needed to be scheduled sooner rather than later so she didn't get stuck on modified assignment for the rest of her career. By 5, all of her boys had left, but Brenda was in her office ostensibly working, but in truth she was staring out at the lights of the city, worrying.

"How did your appointment go," a familiar, smooth voice asked from her door, startling Brenda.

"My word, Sharon Raydor, 'bout to give me a heart attack."

Sharon grinned at her; Brenda noticed that she was prone to doing so when Brenda's southern popped out more than usual.

"My apologies. You usually hear me coming." It was true; Sharon's heels made a distinct cadence on the linoleum of the Major Crime's bullpen, but today she had been lost to her worried musings.

"Your appointment?" Sharon pressed gently.

"They want to surgically repair the tendon," said Brenda, grimacing, the question pushing her right back into her fretting.

"I'm sorry, Brenda. I know you were hoping therapy would be enough." Sharon gave her a sympathetic look, and somehow it didn't grate on her nerves like the ones her boys had been sending her way since she'd hurt herself.

"The doctor said this is probably as good as its gonna get, and I'll never be up to roll-out standard without the surgery."

"That doesn't have to mean the end of your career or even your position in Major Crimes," Sharon reasoned.

"I know, I know. But I wanna be able to do all the things I ask my boys to do. And I'm not ready…" She trailed off. Not ready to give in to the idea that she was aging. Not ready to be on desk duty when Provenza was considered fit for full duty.

"Did you schedule the surgery?"

"Not yet," Brenda admitted. "I have some arrangements to make."

"Mmmmmmm. Who is going to help you out afterwards?"

"I was thinkin' of callin' my momma, see if she could make it out here next week to help me." Brenda shifted her eyes down, away from Sharon, examining her bare, bitten fingernails.

"Brenda," Sharon chided. "Your mother isn't strong enough to help you if you aren't able to stand up."

Brenda shrugged miserably, unable to meet Sharon's eyes. She knew that her mom wouldn't be able to help her in the ways she needed, but her options were limited to her parents, one of her boys, and the woman standing in her doorway who confused and intrigued her while managing to make her feel safe and understood.

"I would be happy to help you, Brenda, if you would be comfortable with that."

"Really?" Brenda looked up with hope, searching Sharon's face for sincerity. "You've done so much for me already, Sharon, I would never want to take advantage of your generosity."

"I know you wouldn't, but I'm offering. The kitties and I would love to have you - don't doubt that."

Brenda woke up groggy and disappointed that it was a nurse peering down at her and not Sharon.

"Wh're's Sh'ron?" She managed to mumble around a tongue that felt like drying cement in her even dryer mouth.

The nurse ignored her query and brought a straw to her lips. "Drink just a little," she instructed, not unkindly. "The anesthesia can do a number on some people's stomachs."

Brenda did as she was told, and the cottony desert feeling was alleviated somewhat.

"How's m'knee?" It struck Brenda that she should be more concerned with the state of her knee post-surgery than the whereabouts of her erstwhile friend, but she couldn't really feel her leg at this point, which was probably a blessing.

"The repair went very well," chirped the nurse with a smile that made Brenda want to scowl. Maybe she was scowling, but the disconnect between her brain and her body was a void she was unable to bridge at the moment.

"Wh're's Sh'r'n?" She tried again, too quiet against the nurse's continued chattering. "Wh're's Sharon?" She repeated, louder.

"Friends and family aren't allowed in recovery, Ms. Johnson, but I can let her know you're asking for her."

Now Brenda knew she was scowling, even if she couldn't really feel her face. Being shoved behind a little curtain, alone, while feeling miserable was just the worst. She pushed herself back in the meager little pillow and turned her head away from the object of her disapproval.

The nurse kept chattering on about probable recovery times and blah, blah, blah. Brenda just closed her eyes and willed Sharon to appear by her bed despite the prohibition against friends and family in the recovery area. She would know what to say to get some quiet in here.

When she opened her eyes again, Sharon was there, and to Brenda, still fuzzy from the drugs, she looked like an angel. She could feel her face now, so she smiled beatifically, and Sharon returned her smile.

"How do you feel?" the brunette vision asked in a low murmur.

"Better than the first time I woke up," she said. "How'd you get back here?"

"The nurse made the mistake of telling me you were asking for me," Sharon said, cutting her eyes back to where the nurse was hovering. Brenda chuckled and wiggled back into her bedding; the staff of this surgery center wouldn't have known before not to get in Sharon Raydor's way - now they did.

"Thank you," Brenda whispered, content now to close her eyes and relax.

"When you stop feeling so drowsy, and if there's no bleeding around your incisions, we can get you out of here."

"K," mumbled Brenda, already on her way to being asleep again. "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sharon promised, resting a hand on Brenda's shoulder. "Rest - I'll wake you in 45 minutes and we can see about going home."

Brenda was bored. Between a not so great reaction to the anesthesia - it had taken about 3 days to work itself out of her system - and the utter misery of having had a major joint cut up into what felt like a thousand pieces, Brenda had been laid flat for nearly two weeks, dependent on Sharon to help her do almost everything.

The first time Sharon had helped her into the bathroom and onto the toilet had been mortifying; same for the first (and thankfully, only) sponge bath. They'd managed to preserve Brenda's dignity by clever and judicious use of robes and towels and averted eyes; Brenda hated not being able to attend to her basic hygiene, but she was glad it was Sharon who was helping her. Her parents would never have been able to do the things Sharon had done for her, and it would have been unspeakably awkward having Flynn or Gabriel or any of her boys trying to help her out.

Sharon had made what could have been awfully humiliating into something increasingly, and comfortably warm, culminating in the events of last night, which had become something more… thrilling than comfortable. They had returned from Brenda's physical therapy appointment, and Brenda had been having difficulties maneuvering on her crutches because of a cramp in her good left leg. Sharon's solution to Brenda's pain was to offer a rubdown of her thigh and calf muscles, and Brenda had been unable to resist that offer, dealing with the twin desires of wanting a deeper sort of affection with Sharon, and knowing that strong fingers would do wonders for the knots that were making her leg seize up.

It hadn't been an erotic experience, so much as it was a profoundly intimate one. The sensation of Sharon's long, capable fingers digging the knots out of her legs was too much - painful and pleasurable all at once - forcing Brenda to close her eyes. She was left with the sound of Sharon's even breathing, and the faint, rumbling purr of Ollie, who was never far from Brenda when she was at Sharon's. Sharon's kindness and the presence of the cats made Brenda more comfortable in many ways than she was at her resoundingly empty duplex.

She'd spent the day thinking; cogitating on the changes in her circumstances and the changes in her perception. If she wanted more with Sharon, how much more did she want? Sharon didn't seem to be the type to accept 'casual', so Brenda needed to know what she wanted before she approached the other woman with the intent of changing anything. She also needed to find out if, beyond her apparent desire to take care of Brenda, Sharon was attracted to Brenda in the same way Brenda was finding herself drawn to Sharon. She didn't have a plan, though. What would asking Sharon, versus trying to more subtly ascertain her attraction (or lack thereof), do to their friendship?

All Brenda's thoughts of potential seduction, of ascertaining Sharon's attractedness, melted away when Sharon came through the front door, talking angrily on her cell phone. She and Ollie were congregated on the couch, and Ollie turned to give her a mournful look. He did not like it when his mother was out of sorts.

"I know, buddy," Brenda whispered, tickling him behind an ear. He meowed and stalked off to greet his person and to try his hand (or paw) at soothing her distress.

Sharon's conversation moved into the living area, and Brenda tried not to look overly interested, even though she was acutely interested. "We've gone over this: you are not welcome here. We've been having this same discussion for more than twenty years - I have no idea why you insist on rehashing it."

That tone of voice and that exasperated, sour and angry expression could only mean ex-husband. Brenda didn't know the details of Sharon's married life, but she knew that Sharon and her husband had been separated for much longer than they had been married.

"If you want to visit Ricky, then you can get a motel room…" She paused, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't even seem to see Brenda, or maybe she was just unconcerned that Brenda was in earshot of her personal business. "Well, I understand that he would be wary of letting you stay in his guest room, since the last time he let you, you picked the house clean of change and small bills."

Brenda made eye contact and patted the sofa next to her, inviting Sharon to sit - maybe Brenda could provide some of the same support that Sharon had when Fritz was being a bastard. Sharon plopped down, followed by Ollie, who stepped onto her lap, looking a little anxious. Brenda reached out to give him a comforting pat, then laid a hand on Sharon's shoulder. She was warm and she always smelled fantastic and Brenda wanted to take the phone and toss it and then wrap the other woman up in a hug.

"No, I don't believe you, Jackson…Because you're an addict and you've stolen more than that from me and had the balls to lie to me about it," Sharon snarled. Brenda took a chance, sliding an arm around Sharon's slim shoulders, not wanting to interfere in the conversation, but wanting to let Sharon know she was not alone. She was rewarded by a minute lift at the corners of Sharon's thin, etched lips.

"If you don't have enough money for a motel, then perhaps you could not spend your next paycheck at the poker table…It's not my problem anymore. You are a grown man, and I am not your spouse or your caretaker or your bank." She hung up abruptly, the faint sounds of a male voice still issuing from the phone.

"Sorry about that," Sharon murmured, unable to meet Brenda's gaze, focussing her attention on the suddenly animated feline in her lap. "Where's Cassie?"

"Probably layin' in the patch of sun on the guest bed. Attemptin' to turn her fur into molten lava."

"Mmmmm," Sharon hummed, and smiled, whether at Brenda's description of Cassie, or at Ollie's efforts to cheer her up, Brenda didn't know. It was really difficult to hold on to a bad mood with the clownish Ollie and his much too dignified sister around.

"You know what would be fun?" Brenda suggested slyly. "That boy of yours has been chattering at the birdies all day long - maybe we could take him for a walk?"

"Fun for him or fun for you?"

Brenda gasped in mock astonishment, and put on her best 'Scarlett O'Hara' accent. "Castin' such aspersions on mah motives, Cap'n."

That drew another smile out of Sharon. "Let me change my clothes and we can take them both outside - let Cassie sunbathe in the great outdoors for a bit."

Walking the cats wasn't exactly walking, which was part of the reason that Brenda was fond of it - most of the reasons Brenda enjoyed it involved watching Sharon play animatedly with her enormous cats in full view of the street and anyone who walked or drove by. Sure they got some strange looks, and some intrigued looks, but any attention was worth it to see Sharon in almost indecently short shorts and a slim-fitting cotton tee, soaking up the sun even as the cats did their thing.

That was sort of the idea - the cats were in harnesses and on long, long leads, able to explore the yard and the edges of the neighbors' yards as well. As expected, after sniffing around a bit, Cassie found the sunniest spot in the yard and hunkered down, utterly still, perhaps thinking that if she pretended to be a patch of grass, the birds would eventually alight near enough for her to pounce.

Brenda, with the end of Cassie's lead slipped over her wrist, lowered herself slowly onto the front steps. Walking Ollie was more interactive, so Sharon had taken him, and he was attempting to climb a small lemon tree at the edge of the property. Unfortunately for Ollie, and much to the amusement of Brenda and Sharon, he was unsuccessful. Ollie had caps on his front nails precisely because he had a propensity for scrambling with great speed up trees that were too high for Sharon to rescue him from. One call to the fire department was enough to lead Sharon to seek out the solution of nail caps; they kept the big cat from inducing panic in his mother, but still allowed him to catch and 'kill' his toys.

Brenda couldn't help but giggle at the cat. Ollie was hanging from the base of the tree, unable to get enough purchase to lever his big body further up the trunk. His head was turned, and he was meowing plaintively at Sharon.

Sharon chuckled too, but she also spoke to the cat in her even, reasonable tone. "I'm sorry, buddy. I know you like to climb, but my heart can't handle you fifteen feet up the neighbor's sycamore tree." Ollie's answer was another longing meow.

"I don't think you convinced him," Brenda said, still giggling.

"I feel bad keeping him from doing something he likes, but its too much when he gets up there and won't come down."

"Awwww. Such a mom."

Sharon shot Brenda a scowl, but couldn't repress her smile. "It fees wrong to laugh at him, but he is awfully cute."

"Ollie is very cute," agreed Brenda. "And even though he thinks he would be cuter at the top of that tree, he has a pretty excellent life for a kitty cat."

The spoiled kitty eventually let himself be distracted by his feathered toy, and entertained them both with acrobatic leaps across the front yard, until he was exhausted and flopped down on the grass, panting. Sharon flopped down herself, next to Brenda on the stairs. She was flushed from the exertions of whipping the toy around for the cat, and Brenda couldn't drag her eyes away from the other woman's face; the color in Sharon's cheeks and the sparkle in eye's was irresistible.

Sharon caught her at it, and smiled at her questioningly. Brenda smiled back, then took a chance, and rested her head on Sharon's shoulder, sighing happily to signal her contentment and pleasure. Sharon tensed for a moment, but relaxed after sighing herself, sliding an arm around Brenda's waist, gently pulling Brenda just a bit closer to her.


	3. Chapter 3

This was it; Brenda's last night at Sharon's house, in Sharon's guest bedroom. Tomorrow Brenda would be back in the duplex, and she wanted to leave knowing Sharon knew that she wanted their relationship to change, to become a romantic one that involved dates and sleepovers in the same bed. They had been much more physically affectionate in the past week, with Brenda taking the lead in initiating contact to being with, but Sharon cottoned on in short order and started doing things like snuggling up to Brenda on the couch, fitting herself around the positions Brenda was most comfortable in.

They hadn't kissed yet, which was driving Brenda nuts. That was her goal for tonight, a kiss at the very least. And she would love to get her hands on more of Sharon, on the soft skin usually covered by her shirt or her long, toned legs. And her breasts. Last night, Brenda had caught a glimpse of a nipple and that had certainly piqued her interest. Brenda had been anticipating the possibility of breasts, but now she was hyperaware of them. She wanted to experience the heft of them in her hands; she wanted to run her thumbs over Sharon's nipples and watch as they tightened from arousal and sensation; she wanted to know what her breasts would feel like pressed against Sharon's, skin to skin.

Such thoughts made her feel like a fire was burning through her veins - the anticipation was exquisite.

Sharon would be home soon. She had gone to run an errand - a surprise, she'd said. Well, Brenda had a surprise, too. Brenda hoped that Sharon would enjoy it. She had toyed with the idea of stripping down and then summoning Sharon to the bedroom and asking for another leg massage.

Sharon's surprise turned out to be champagne and a moist, delicious chocolate cake from a gourmet bakery that Brenda had been lusting over for weeks. Sharon popped the cork with a flourish, sending the cats scattering at the noise. She filled the delicate flutes, and favored Brenda with a brilliant smile.

"To you," she toasted, "and getting back to work full-time. I know how much you've been missing being fully involved in your cases."

Brenda gave a nod of agreement, but she was of a mind to toast something else. With her (custom made and hellishly expensive) knee brace on, she was able to be mobile over short distances without a crutch or cane, so she hobbled closer to Sharon, getting in her personal space.

"There's somethin' I would like to toast, as well," Brenda purred, her eyes flicking down to Sharon's lips, moist with champagne. Her heart was pounding, her palms moist and the hair on her arms were pricking with anticipation. "To us," she murmured, and leaned in, finally, finally, pressed her lips to Sharon's, her free hand finding purchase on the other woman's waist, smoothing over the soft, sleeveless button-up she was wearing.

Brenda wasn't expecting an immediate and intense make out session, but Sharon's contented hum and the powdery scent and delicious warmth of her were more than enough for Brenda. It was, in her estimation, a pretty fantastic first kiss.

After a brief, perfect moment, Brenda pulled back, but didn't pull away. Sharon was grinning at her. "To us," Sharon repeated, depositing her glass on the table, and sliding her arms around Brenda. Then she initiated a kiss, her tongue flicking out against Brenda's lips. Brenda swooned - she couldn't help it; her knees buckled, but Sharon didn't let her fall, her tongue encouraging Brenda to open up to her, and Brenda did so readily. At her first taste of Sharon Raydor, Brenda moaned. She needed to touch more of Sharon; she needed to never stop kissing her; she needed to sit down.

Brenda managed to maneuver them towards the couch and got herself settled before tugging Sharon down into her lap. Her hands found their way to Sharon's waist again, though she desperately wanted to place them elsewhere; it would be so easy to palm Sharon's rear through her cute, preppy little shorts, or to traverse the length of those strong thighs with her fingers and maybe flirt with the skin underneath those shorts. Sharon's hands were on her shoulders, sliding up her neck to cup her jaw and scratch at the hair at the back of her neck. Her lips didn't restrict themselves to Brenda's either - the feeling of a hot mouth wrapping around her earlobe had Brenda gasping, her hands grabbing at Sharon's ass of their own accord.

Sharon's hips jerked, her apex colliding with Brenda's abdomen; they both groaned then broke away to share a heated look. Brenda was enamored of the soft-eyed, aroused version of Sharon that was currently perched on her hips, her hair wild around her face even though Brenda hadn't had a chance to bury her fingers in it. She did so then, winnowing her fingers back from Sharon's temple; her hair was so soft and so thick, and it tangled itself welcomingly around Brenda's fingers.

"Sharon," Brenda whispered, reverent. "Sharon."

Though for the past few days Sharon had only been following Brenda's lead, she was beginning to realize she had been rather convincingly seduced. She knew Brenda wasn't conniving - that she was taking small steps she was comfortable with, and Sharon followed that lead, hoping against hope that further steps would follow. And now here she was, sitting on Brenda's lap, kissing Brenda and being kissed by her. And she could tell that Brenda really, really wanted to take that next step; that she desperately wanted to touch more, to do more. With one hand tangled in Sharon's hair and the other caressing Sharon's neck, edging down to the skin exposed by her button up shirt, Brenda looked equally parts amazed and turned on.

"What do you want, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon murmured, applying soft kisses to Brenda's ear. Brenda moaned, her hands jumping into motion at the stimulation, flirting with the buttons on Sharon's shirt. "Would you like to touch my breasts, sweetheart?" She covered Brenda's hands with her own and repositioned them.

"Oh," she gasped, then squeezed gently. Sharon let her head drop back and sighed in satisfaction. Brenda's tentative explorations were enormously arousing; the fact that Brenda had taken the first steps in this were even more amazing.

It didn't take long for Brenda to become dissatisfied with the clothing between her hands and Sharon skin, so she began prying at the buttons that separated her from what she wanted.

"Why don't we take this into the bedroom?"

Unfortunately for their burgeoning love life, Brenda was only comfortable in a few positions, so that limited them a little, but with Brenda reclining back on a bunch of pillows, and Sharon perched on her hips again, they were determined to make the best of the situation.

Brenda watched, rapt, as Sharon unbuttoned her shirt slowly, putting on a show. The blonde's small hands weren't still, sneaking beneath the fabric to make contact with Sharon's skin. Brenda was impatient with the lack of control afforded her by her position underneath Sharon, so Sharon didn't tease. Once her shirt was off, and tossed unceremoniously to the floor, Brenda's hands were on her bra. It was front clasp, and Brenda was single-minded in her attempts to free Sharon's breasts from its plain cotton confines.

Sharon's breath hitched as Brenda's clever fingers found her nipples, and as if Sharon's breasts were some sort of tipping point, Brenda's hesitancy disappeared, and she pinched and pulled as if she could read Sharon's mind.

"Yes, Brenda," Sharon hissed, then bent to kiss the woman that she more than likely loved.

Positional difficulties aside, nothing had really prepared Sharon for the experience of quite literally sitting on Brenda Leigh's face while the blonde had made a first rousing attempt at cunnilingus. They communicated exceptionally well, too, through Brenda's momentary shyness about her less-than-natural breasts, and Sharon's halting explanation that she often needed artificial lubrication to enjoy penetration. After establishing that Sharon thought Brenda completely beautiful, and Brenda was completely in favor of any and all lubrication that Sharon needed to enjoy sex, they had a marvelous time.

Post-coital cuddling required Sharon to fold herself around Brenda, but that was more than ok. She snuggled against Brenda's side, enjoying the gentle tang of salt and sex that surrounded them.

"I don't want you to go back to your place," Sharon confessed quietly. She could confidently say that she wanted Brenda to stay with her, and with the kitties - she'd been feeling that way since well before things had progressed to this point.

"I don't wanna, either," Brenda assured her. "But I think I need to figure out howta deal with this knee on my own. But I expect invites - many invites - for dinner and kitty playtime and…other stuff."

"You can expect many invites for 'other stuff', as you call it."

"Good. 'Cuz I really like doin' other stuff with you. All the stuff."


End file.
